Four Hours
by kissthegirl12
Summary: Clara has been poisoned. While dealing with a list of side effects, the Doctor must face the possibility of losing his companion. The cure is four hours of constant movement, or five minutes until death. (Whouffaldi) Mid series 9


"Why don't you choose somewhere safe to go next time?" Clara Oswald shouts, slamming the TARDIS door behind her.

"It is safe here." The Doctor argues, pulling a lever on the console and sending them into Space.

"And it just slipped your mind that everything is toxic to humans?" Clara asks, walking up the steps and towards the Doctor.

"Well, I thought about it, but I also thought that you'd be smart enough not to go and get hurt." The Doctor says.

"You pushed me." Clara jabs a finger into the Doctor's chest.

"I did not."

"You pushed me, I fell and scraped my arm on a poisonous tree."

"I tripped and used you to balance myself. I thought you would be as sturdy as you look."

"Really? Now? I could be dying and you're poking fun?" Clara crosses her arms and glares at the Doctor.

"Let me have a look. I doubt you got enough of the poison in you to kill you." The Doctor says and holds out his hand.

Clara reluctantly stretches her arm out to him and shows him the pattern of scrapes. The Doctor gingerly wraps his fingers around her wrist and sonics the sore area with his screwdriver.

"Ooh, never mind, um I should do a blood test to be sure, but..." The Doctor trails off and digs his hand in his pocket.

"What? You mean I am dying? It was just a scrape, it's not like I swallowed some." Clara says, shocked.

"Intravenously is even quicker." The Doctor says, his pocket nearly up to his elbow before he pulls his arm out, holding a syringe. "Slight pinch."

He slides the needle into a vein and fills the syringe with Clara's blood. The vial makes odd little noises as the analysis is being processed. The Doctor studies it and then sets it down slowly.

"It could be nothing. The test could be wrong." He says.

"But it isn't, is it?" Clara asks, a slight shake in her voice. The Doctor gives her a solemn look.

"No." He says quietly.

"Is there a cure?"

"Yes. Basically don't let the poison eat away at the walls of your insides. Keep it moving. You'll sweat it out in four hours."

"And if I keep still?"

"Five minutes until you are no longer you."

Clara's shocked expression fades quickly as she sniffs and rubs her hands together.

"Four hours, yeah? I just have to keep busy for four hours. You've got a treadmill around her somewhere, right?"

"Clara, you can't keep moving for fours hours straight. Once the symptoms start it will be nearly impossible to stay awake, let alone moving."

"What's the first symptom?"

"Rash."

"Like this one?" Clara turns her arm over, showing a black web-looking rash covering just above her wrist.

"The one and only. Don't scratch it. I've no idea what will happen if you do, but everyone always says don't scratch a rash."

"Can you put a patch on it? I'd rather not be reminded of my death sentence, and right now scratching is all I want to do." Clara says, her arm beginning to tremble.

The Doctor takes her to the medbay and puts a bandage over the irritated skin.

"Thanks." Clara says, a shiver running through her limbs.

"Are you cold?" The Doctor asks.

"Freezing. You trying to save on heat or something?"

"No. It's actually quite warm in here." The Doctor runs his hand over Clara's arm.

"What does that mean then? New symptom?" She asks, watching his unusual touchy behavior.

"Yes. Your body temperature is dropping and causing your blood to turn to sludge. The poison will kill you within minutes if we don't warm you up." The Doctor stops rubbing Clara's cold skin and offers his hand to help her off of the examination table.

She takes it and hops down, only to have her legs buckle underneath her. The Doctor catches Clara before she hits the ground and eases her up.

"Sorry, I don't know what happened. I feel tired all of a sudden." Clara says, trying to catch a breath.

"We need to keep you moving." The Doctor says, pulling her down the hall.

"But I'm tired and cold and I just want to sleep." She whines.

"Fantastic. Mood swings." The Doctor mutters under his breath. "You can't, that's just the poison talking."

"Doctor, really, I'm not joking. I feel like I'm going to pass out." Clara tugs on his arm to try to slow him. He turns quickly and stands inches away from her.

"I had the TARDIS create a room that will help you. You need to keep going. I promise you will get through this."

Clara nods and allows the Doctor to bring her to a new door. Inside is hotter than the most brutal summer in England. Steam rises from vents and creates an atmosphere that would be impossible to live in with a normal body temperature. In the center of the room is a large, bubbling hot tub.

"Why have we never come here before?" Clara asks.

"It's brand new. Created just for you and your dying body." The Doctor says. "No standing around, though, get moving. The hot tub will return your body temperature to normal and get the blood flowing faster."

"Thank you. I need my swimsuit, though."

"Why? Just get in like that, it's fine." The Doctor motions for Clara to hurry up.

"Doctor, I hate having wet clothes sticking to me. Just let me-"

"Fine, fine. I'll fetch something. Jog in place while I'm gone." The Doctor says and waits for her to start before leaving.

He silently thanks the TARDIS for putting the steam room right next to Clara's room. He rummages through the drawers of her dresser, trying to ignore the pictures of her former boyfriend scattered throughout. Finally reaching the bit of stretchy fabric he's been looking for, he returns to Clara.

"I think this is working. I feel better." She says, still jogging.

"Good. Just three hours and fifty-four minutes left." The Doctor says, checking his watch.

"I need someplace to change." Clara says, taking her swimsuit.

The Doctor points to the corner of the room where the wall juts out and a curtain offers privacy.

"No peeking." Clara says over her shoulder as she walks away.

"Why would I do that?" The Doctor asks. Clara doesn't answer.

The Doctor adjusts his coat and wipes the forming sweat off of his forehead. He wonders why Clara would think he'd be interested in peeking at her. Humans are always thinking about each other's bodies. He is better than that. A sufficient amount of time has passed by now for Clara to have finished. One minute and thirty-seven seconds to be exact.

"Doctor, can you, uh, come here?" Clara asks.

"I thought you didn't want me over there." The Doctor says, inching closer to the corner.

"Well I changed my mind. I need your help."

The Doctor crosses the floor quickly and finds Clara leaning against the wall.

"Hey, what are you doing? You have to keep moving." The Doctor says.

"I can't. I can't move, my legs feel numb, I'm too tired and I'm freezing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't do this." Clara says through chattering teeth, wiping her eyes.

"No, no. None of that, come on. Get into the hot tub, it'll help. I promise it will, come on." The Doctor pulls on her arm to get her to move.

"I don't...I don't feel so good." Clara searches for a grip on the Doctor, but looses her balance and collapses to the floor.

"Oh, Clara, why must you always choose to do things the hard way?" The Doctor mutters as he drags Clara to the giant hot tub.

He takes off his jacket and shoes and submerges halfway into the bubbling water, keeping Clara afloat. He tries to circulate her blood by moving her arms around in the hot water. Clara starts to move on her own as she regains consciousness and is aware of her surroundings.

"Feeling any better?" The Doctor asks.

"A little, yeah." Clara says, able now to stand on her own. "I thought I was before, too. How did I get worse so quickly?"

"Your body is confused by the poison. Fluctuations in temperature is the consequence. Keep walking and swimming round. Don't stand still." The Doctor reminds her.

"It's hard to walk." Clara says, holding onto the edge of the pool.

"You're not getting enough blood and oxygen to your muscles. Try jumping and swinging your arms. I know it sounds silly, but it's your last chance."

"Thanks for the encouragement." Clara says sarcastically.

Clara tries her best to get her blood rushing, even though she can think of things that would work much better, she keeps trying it the Doctor's way. A flash of grey startles her and she slows.

"What's wrong? Why have you stopped?" The Doctor asks.

"I thought I saw something." Clara says, squinting through the misty room.

"That's impossible. It's just us here."

The grey flash returns and seems to pause behind a vent.

"It kind of looks like one of those things..." Clara says slowly, still trying to make it out.

"What things? What does it look like?" The Doctor watches her carefully.

Clara blinks, then jumps back.

"It's one of those-those things, the statues. The angel statues." Clara gulps and stares at the weeping angel, not daring to blink again.

"Clara, there's nothing there. And you're declining at a rapid pace, you need to keep moving." The Doctor puts hand on Clara's arm.

"Doctor, it right there. Why can't you see it? It's there!" Clara moves away from his touch and backs against the pool wall.

The burning in her eyes forces her to blink and the angel is gone. Clara sighs in relief and fights off tears as she looks back at the Doctor.

"Is it gone?" He asks, concern etched deep in his face.

"I think so, yeah, it-" Clara freezes and chills runs their fingers down her spine.

"What?"

"I can feel a hand. On my shoulder. Please tell me that's you, please tell me you've become comfortable with touch." Clara says, not able to control the tears now.

"It's not me. Step forward. There's nothing there. You're hallucinating because the poison is working its way into your brain. You'll never be able to rationalize anything ever again if you don't trust me right now and step forward."

"I can't. I'm scared." Clara grips the Doctor's arm with both hands.

"It has your shoulder, correct? So if I do this, I should be touching the angel." The Doctor places his hand on her shoulder. After seeing no difference in Clara, he pulls her forward and breaks the imaginary bond.

Clara breathes heavily into the Doctor's chest as he guides her up the steps of the pool.

"I'm taking you someplace else." He says.

"Where?" Clara asks, beginning to shiver again.

"Somewhere warm and active." The Doctor says. Clara makes an amused sound in her throat and smiles. Her smile fades when they step into her bedroom.

"Wait-are you serious? I thought...what?" She stammers.

"So you can get dressed." The Doctor says.

"Oh." Clara says, feeling the heat of a hundred suns as the embarrassment torments her.

"That's a way to get the blood rushing. I'll have to think of some more things to say to keep you this warm." The Doctor smirks and leaves her to change.

Clara quickly strips of the wet swimsuit and puts on her warmest pair of pajamas. She finds the Doctor in the hallway stroking the wall of the TARDIS and muttering something.

"Sorry, do you want me to come back later?" She asks, smiling.

"Right, very funny, I've just had a sauna moved across the way from your bedroom in case you need anything while you spend the next three and a half hours in here." The Doctor says.

They go into the steaming room where blankets and pillows are arranged in the most comfortable way on the floor, with a tray of tea on a table near by.

"This is so nice." Clara says.

"Yes, well, I had the TARDIS create it for this one occasion. It will be gone by the morning." The Doctor says, leading Clara to the nest of pillows.

He wraps a blanket around her shoulders and makes sure she's comfortable before handing her a cup of tea.

"Keeping your insides warm is your best chance at staying alive." He says.

"Your great at keeping the atmosphere cheery, now, aren't you?" Clara comments, sipping her tea.

"Why do you expect me to be cheery? Your dying, Clara, I'm doing all I can to prevent that. If you want a celebration instead we can go get ice cream and I'll watch you rot from the inside; out."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Can you just sit with me?" Clara asks.

The Doctor considers every option he has before giving in and sitting down beside her.

"Thank you. I understand that you care. I do. I appreciate everything that you've done to help me." She says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"You really should be moving around." The Doctor says.

"I know. I just want to enjoy this before it's gone." Clara says, taking the Doctor's hand and running her fingers along his own.

"Before what's gone?" The Doctor tries to make eye contact, but Clara looks away.

"You. This place. Everything, actually, because let's face it, Doctor, I'm probably not going to survive this night." Clara breathes out a mixture of sadness and bitter laughter. "I took the other you for granted. I knew you were going to change eventually, of course, but I thought we had more time."

"We still have time." The Doctor says quietly.

"I miss him every day."

"Who? Danny?"

"No, him too, but not right now. I miss you. Your bright eyes that were excited about everything they encountered, and your understanding and love for the human race." Clara traces her fingers over the creases in the Doctor's skin.

"I'm still that man. Inside. I remember everything that we did together, every feeling and impulse that I kept to myself." The Doctor murmurs.

"Why do you always keep them to yourself?"

"To protect the people that I care about."

"I think it's to protect yourself. You're afraid of being hurt."

"You wouldn't have have gotten hurt so much by PE's death if you hadn't given into impulses. If you had known what was going to happen to him, would you have still told him you loved him? Would you still share a kiss, knowing that it would essentially lead to a massive heartbreak?"

"Yes. Because I loved loving him and he might have died alone if I hadn't." Clara lets the Doctor retract his hand from her.

"Are you still cold?" The Doctor asked

"Yes." Clara shivers and moans painfully.

"Are you in pain? That could start soon if the poison has spread far enough."

"Have been for the last fifteen minutes or so. That's bad, yeah?"

"Has the rash spread?"

Clara rolls up her sleeve to show her arm completely covered in the web of the rash. The surrounding skin has turned a dull shade of grey and tapers off at the shoulder. The Doctor stares at the dying skin and swallows as emotion starts to build up.

"There's nothing else I can do." He says in a rugged voice.

"But if we keep the blood flowing, will it help?" Clara asks.

"Maybe. We don't have enough time." The Doctor covers his face and starts to move away from Clara.

"Wait." She grabs his arm and pulls him back to her. "Just a minute ago you said we still had time."

"That was before...Clara there's so much that I wanted to-"

"Doctor, I'm not dying. You're willing to try anything?"

"Yes." The Doctor watches Clara, curiosity peaking.

"If there's one thing I know that raises blood pressure, it's emotion. And right now I'm scared out of my mind, but I still have hope. And if you're willing to try anything and set aside your rejection of affection, don't turn away the impulses, because right now they're my only chance."

"What are you saying?" The Doctor stays completely still as he's processing this new information.

"I'm saying do something, anything to keep me with you. Please show me that you love me." Clara faces the Doctor to give him access to anything he'd like.

He looks at her for a long time before stretching out a hand and placing it on her cheek, catching the falling tears. His thumb slowly glides across her skin, over the ridges of her lips and back again. They move closer until they're only centimeters apart, she can feel his breath on her skin.

"What do you want me to do?" The Doctor whispers.

"Kiss me." Clara breathes out.

The Doctor waits until he feels a tug on his shirt, realizing that Clara has her hands on his stomach, before letting himself give in to the impulse he'd had daily since Clara first started traveling with him. She helps him along as he barely touches her lips by moving her hands to his shoulders. He then brings his free hand to rest over her ribcage, watching her intently. She kisses him lightly, encouraging more from him, running her fingers through the hair on the back on his neck. He kisses her slowly, building up bravery and closing his eyes.

Clara jerks back and shouts in pain, alarming the Doctor.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" He asks, gently holding her arm.

"It wasn't you. Ow, It hurts." She winces, holding her abdomen and clenching her teeth.

"It must be the poison. It's getting to your major organs."

Clara collapses forward into the Doctor's arms and cries out before losing consciousness.

"Clara?" The Doctor moves Clara to the blankets next to him and checks her pulse. "Too slow. Hang in there, Clara."

He rolls up her sleeve and sees that the rash has faded slightly, but is steadily spreading.

"Okay, Clara, I'm gonna try something new. I didn't want to have to do this, but it's your final option." The Doctor scoops Clara up and stands slowly. He quickly navigates the corridors to the medbay and lays her on the examination table.

He finds a bottle of liquid and syringe and puts in on a tray beside the table.

"This will thin your blood out and hopefully get it moving faster." He says, filling the syringe with the dark purple substance. "I'd tell you what it's called, but it's very long and complicated and you'd probably scold me for acting like I'm your teacher."

The Doctor removes the previously placed bandage and cleans the skin on Clara's arm with an alcohol wipe, hesitating before inserting the needle. The purple liquid rushes into her bloodstream, turning the rash an ashy shade before it slowly dissolves.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this." The Doctor whispers, waiting for the impending result of using an alien drug on a fragile human body.

Clara's hand twitches slightly. A shivers runs through her body and her fists clench. Her brow furrows as a whimper escapes her parted lips. Her arm thrashes to the side, hitting the Doctor's chest. He holds it there and helplessly watches her her body fight the drug.

"Let it save you, Clara. Don't fight it."

Clara grips the Doctor's shirt, twisting it as her breathing becomes more erratic. Her body stills and her grip loosens.

The Doctor's breath hitches in his throat as a bead of sweat runs down Clara's forehead. Several more appear, and soon a sheet of sweat is covering her body.

"You did it. Your body's purging itself of the poison, Clara, you're going to be alright."

Clara's eyes flicker open and she takes a deep breath.

"Ow." She says and looks at the Doctor. "That hurt more than anything I've ever felt in my entire life."

"I know, I'm sorry. I had to test this out. And it worked. The poison's gone, Clara." The Doctor smiles and releases her hand that he forgot he was holding.

"Seriously? What did you do?" Clara asks, sitting up shakily.

"I was saving a plan until I knew for sure that I didn't have any other choice. I knew it was risky and extremely painful, but fortunately you were already unconscious, so I did it."

"Well, don't ever _do it_ again." Clara says, hugging the Doctor. "That was not fun."

The Doctor carefully returns the hug, not too keen on the beating his sensory system has been taking over the past few hours.

"One more thing." Clara says.

"Yeah?"

"When will I stop sweating purple?"

The Doctor laughs and straightens as Clara releases him.

"A few minutes." He says. "Which is too bad."

"Bad? How?"

"Because it means you're alive and safe. Right now it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."


End file.
